"The order was given in our lines, 'Fix bayonets,' and immediately the steel rang from the scabbard of every man, and flashed in the bright sunlight the next second on the muzzle of every rifle. 'That's right!' cheerily called Major Fraser. 'Now, men of the 92nd, don't forget your bayonets!' he added, with marked emphasis on the word bayonets. It was the bayonet or nothing now, and the officer's words sent quite a pleasant thrill through all. Colonel Stewart immediately added, 'And the men of the 58th!' 'And the Naval Brigade!' sang out another officer, Captain MacGregor, I think. 'Show them the cold steel, men! that will check them,' continued Fraser, whilst volley after volley came pouring in, and volley after volley went in the direction of the enemy. But why this delay? The time we were at this point I cannot judge, except by personally recalling incidents in succession. When the bayonets rang into the rifle-sockets simultaneously with the reopening of the Boers' volleys, I felt convinced that in two minutes that murderous fire would be silenced, and our men driving the foe helter-skelter down hill. After the bayonets had been drawn and fixed, and remained fixed, our men still firing for at least four or five minutes, and no order came to 'charge,' I changed my opinion suddenly." Here we may imagine the agony--hope, doubt, suspense--that passed like a lightning flash through the minds of all who were present. The uproar at this time grew appalling. Commands of the officers, the crash of shot, the shrieks of the wounded, all helped to aggravate the din. Boers were fast climbing the mountain sides, and the troops, worn out and almost expended, were beginning to lose the spirit of discipline that hitherto had sustained them. The officers stepped forward boldly, sword in one hand and revolver in the other, but to no purpose. Only an insignificant number of men now responded to the command. [Illustration: THE BATTLE OF MAJUBA HILL. Drawn by R. Caton Woodville, from Notes supplied by Officers present. The officer to the left, with the glass in his hand, is General Colley, who, to facilitate his ascent of the hill, took off his boots, and, during the engagement, wore only socks and slippers. He, with others, is urging the soldiers to maintain their position. The Highlander with the bandage on his face was wounded, but bravely continued to fight. The Highlander on the right, apparently asleep, was shot dead while taking aim. The officer in the immediate foreground towards the right, to whom the doctor is offering a flask, is Major L. C. Singleton, of the 92nd Gordon Highlanders, who died of his wounds. The figure pressing forward on the extreme left of the picture is the Special Correspondent of the _Standard_ newspaper.]